


The Great Game: Mycroft ver.

by LaGemini



Series: Mycroft being genius [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Mycroft Holmes, Because I don't know what geniuses are thinking, Canon-Typical Violence, Case Fic, Mycroft Holmes IS the British Government, POV John Watson
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:01:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25166635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaGemini/pseuds/LaGemini
Summary: Sherlock gained his popularity as a hat detective before s1 e3. And this time, Moriarty wants to play with Mycroft instead of Sherlock.Moriarty wants attention from Mycroft, the British government, and Mycroft needs Sherlock to do the legwork during the 'game'.Case fic.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes & Jim Moriarty, Mycroft Holmes & Sherlock Holmes, Sherlock Holmes & Jim Moriarty, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson
Series: Mycroft being genius [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1827256
Comments: 4
Kudos: 201





	The Great Game: Mycroft ver.

One undistinguished afternoon on September, Sherlock Holmes was staving off his boredom doing experiments at the kitchen and John Watson was surfing through the channels not having a shift today. Usual sight on 221B baker street.

John was automatically changing channels, already went through them twice and knowing there’s nothing interesting, when the screen abruptly crashes and then settles on to a slightly grainy scene.

When his brain processed the scene, he shouted, “Sherlock!”

He didn’t check if he came or not. His tone would surely alert the bored detective with the promise of something good at least, and he doesn’t have any presence of mind to think about it.

There, on the screen, were bound and gagged kids with school uniform and school bag. And he was pretty certain that they are from the royal family.

“Fuck,” Sherlock swore under his breath, and John was startled enough to notice that Sherlock did came and was standing behind the sofa. It was the first time he heard Sherlock swore.

But before John could think about the implications, someone spoke from the offscreen.

_“Heeeeello, Britain.”_ Something was off with the tone, and kids visibly flinched at the voice. It is live, then. At least they are alive, John thought fervently.

The camera swiveled and showed a bound and pale man. A bodyguard, unmistakably. John could see an earphone. _“Sorry for not showing my face, or using my real voice. I would_ love _to, but you won’t give me a chance to get to know you if I do, would you?”_ And guessing from the attempted mischievous tone with lewd twist of the word _love_ , he must be repeating exactly what he hears. His expression of fear and grimace was indication enough.

John couldn’t guess more than that, so he shot a glance to Sherlock knowing he would notice much more. But Sherlock was busy scowling fiercely at the screen and didn't seem to be in the mood of showing off in any time soon, so John focused on the screen once more.

_“Let’s play a game. I will set up a chessboard, and if you accept my invitation, my Queen, I will send your pawns back in one piece. And of course, I am not talking about your highness. She is the King. You know I am talking to you, my black Queen. You have six hours. Oh, and terribly sorry for the program shut down. I’ll try to avoid crashing the boring things next time. Not.”_

As soon as the words finished, a red dot appeared on the forehead of the bodyguard. John felt cold. But even before the chill runs down entirely through his back, there was a shot, blood spatter, muffled scream from the kids, and camera turning back to show that the kids are unharmed besides the terrified tears. Then, the screen went back to its usual channels.

John stared at the screen trying to decide if that was real, and not his dream. But of course, it couldn’t be a dream, he’s not that imaginative, and he heard screams from outside at the shot. His soldier brain kicked in right away.

“Sherlock, what’s going on?” He asked the one who are more likely to be near the answer between the two. Sherlock was frantically discarding his robe and dressing in his usual suit.

“Get dressed, John. And bring your gun. Don’t hide it.” Sherlock ignored John’s question, but John was more than familiar with it now. And considering the situation, he didn’t even try to make a face.

As soon as they grabbed a coat and went out the front door, an unmarked black car stopped in front of them.

Of course. Mycroft. John should have seen that coming. As it is, he didn’t hesitate to follow Sherlock in to the car.

Surprisingly, or unsurprisingly, there were no one in the car. No Mycroft, or no Anthea. It was the first time, but they must be frantic right now dealing with the situation.

“So, who was that?” John turned to face a pensive Sherlock and asked now that they don’t have anything else to do until they reach the destination. The whole windows were tinted black to prevent them from looking outside.

Thankfully, Sherlock wasn’t in his mind palace.

“Hmm? Oh, that was Moriarty.” Sherlock answered nonchalantly, still thinking hard.

John sucked in a breath at the name. He and Sherlock encountered that name time to time in the past, on the cases Sherlock rated higher than 8. As far as he gathered, he was the criminal mastermind behind large criminal rings. John hadn’t regarded the situation lightly, but it seems that it is much more serious than he thought.

“And the black Queen? The one he wanted to play?”

“Of course that’s Mycroft, John.” Sherlock answered in a tone that says ‘you idiot’, but John was more than immune to that tone as well.

“Mycroft.” John repeated disbelievingly.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “I did say he is one of the most dangerous man you met, didn’t I? Or that he is _the_ British government? _Of course_ he’s the Queen Moriarty is talking about. The your highness, which happens to be a woman instead of man now, is the King. The face of the country, maintaining the front. Mycroft is the one who is running the country. Hence, the Queen.”

It’s not that John necessarily doubted Sherlock’s words. It was obvious that Mycroft has powers considering all the CCTVs, kidnaps, and all the leeway he had given Sherlock. However, if your everyday interaction with Mycroft was him being overbearing for his little brother or seeing him arguing childishly with the said brother, it kinds of slip from one’s mind.

Maybe he should be more surprised at slight worry he could hear from Sherlock’s words. John knows they are not archenemies as they claimed, but it’s a long way from tolerating each other’s presence from actually expressing worry towards the other.

John was pondering if he should be more worried about the situation than he currently is, which was already on invading Afganistan level, when they arrived somewhere he has never been before.

But Sherlock obviously knew where they were, so John obediently got out of the car and followed Sherlock’s confident strides. He was still holding his gun, following Sherlock’s advice of not trying to hide it, but no one seemed to mind.

They must be in one of the buildings of secret service, John guessed from the confidential atmosphere and the clothes of the agents moving rapidly around.

The driver that accompanied them pointed to a door several minutes later, and John halted just after crossing the door.

There was Mycroft, in his usual three-piece suit and leaning slightly on his ever-present umbrella, overseeing numerous screens showing every frame of the video broadcasted thirty minutes ago. The room was bursting with agents.

“Slipping, Mycroft? Still analyzing the scene after thirty minutes?” Sherlock strode in without waiting for permission or John to follow him. However, when he tried to put a hand on Mycroft, Anthea materialized from thin air and stood between Mycroft and Sherlock. John didn’t even know she was near. And more surprisingly, Sherlock backed off without a protest.

When John approached them seeing no one tried to stop them, he could see why. This is the first time John actually saw Mycroft in his own mind palace, but he is familiar with the look from Sherlock.

They waited patiently besides Mycroft while the room was bursting with sounds and movements, and Mycroft came back a couple of minutes later.

“You know why I called, Sherlock,” Mycroft said without preamble. Sherlock didn’t seem to need one. “Of course,” Sherlock nodded.

“I need a leg. The Queen is not allowing me to go out, not even with the security details. Unfortunately, it is not only you and I that knows the fact that Moriarty won’t resort to a brutal force to kill me, so I can’t insist that there’s nowhere that’s safe for me. Even if Moriarty knows this facility, he won’t just bomb it for the sake of killing me. He wants to _play_.” Mycroft mouthed the last word in distaste.

John nodded in understanding. He distinctively gets the feeling that Mycroft is explaining for his benefit, not Sherlock’s, but he didn’t question it. Now’s not the time.

“And?” Sherlock inquired.

Mycroft raised a single eyebrow as a response, but Sherlock just jutted his chin up a bit. Mycroft rolled his eyes. “And you are better suited at legwork than me, brother mine. Satisfied?”

“Very.” Sherlock smiled a very pleasant but shark-like grin, and John suppressed a sigh. Please, not now.

Mycroft rolled his eyes once again, but John could see he already got back to the problem at hand. Sherlock as well.

They started to discuss something about pips when John inched away from them as Anthea motioned him.

“Dr. Watson, we issued a temporary permit for your gun. We can provide bullets, knifes, or any other combat gears you might need. I could bring your requests here, or you could follow me to the armory to pick on your own. Which do you prefer?”

Anthea asked in business tone, wearing her own combat gear and not her usual pencil skirt and high heels.

John chose to see it for himself, and followed her out after final glance to Sherlock and Mycroft.

The two were discussing things passionately. They seemed like they actually get along without trying to outdo the other.

Sadly, that only made John to feel more dread at the situation. It must be an absolutely dire situation for them to collaborate without even a quip. He decided to pack as much gear as he could, and reminded himself to find something for Sherlock to protect vital organs.


End file.
